Jehovah Jireh

She awakened before sunrise, her heart pumping excitement. She had discovered a hole in the wall in her Grandmother's attic the day before. Her curiosity had pushed her to explore it. She had reached down inside the hole . She could barely grasp an object just within reach of her fingers. It was smooth and soft to her touch. Intrigued, she carefully pulled the object up and out. It was a little black notebook. She opened it to the first page. Only two words appeared on that page. In fact, they were the only two words in the little black book, "Jehovah Jireh." She slipped the little black book into her pocket and ran down the stairs.

She asked her mother about the hole in the attic wall. Her mother told her it had been there for years upon years. No one was willing to repair it. Her great-Grandfather had refused to repair it. He said it allowed the "peskies" to come in and out as they desired. Her great-Grandfather believed that the "peskies" brought blessings to those who were fond of them.

"Jehovah Jireh," played on the end of her tongue. "What is it," she wondered, as she readied herself for the day ahead. She had decided to visit nature, as she often did when a mystery presented itself. She would walk up a path to the top of what she fantasized as a great mountain. In fact, the path she walked raised upwards on a large hill. The path gently rose, trees lining it on its journey to the beyond. Occasionally, she thought she glimpsed pixies dancing around the trees. Imagination," her mind would tell her.

She brought the little black notebook with her. She slid her hand into her pocket and turned it over and over. She fingered the soft smoothness of its skin. Abruptly, she pulled the book from her pocket, seeking answers. The book fell open to the second page. To her astonishment, words appeared on the second page. "Climb the mountains and get their good tidings." She quickly closed the little black book and returned it to her pocket.

She continued her journey upwards. Inwardly, she heard, "Look up." When she did, she saw an eagle in the sky. "You are free," the eagle called, "like me." She was filled to the brim with wonder. Her grandmother's pearl of wisdom, "To laughter! The bright coinage in the bank of good will," flooded her heart. Her grandmother was quick to share this pearl and practiced good will towards others her entire life.

The hill was growing a bit steep. Her grandfather danced in her heart. The rest of the family considered him to be close to a ne'er do well." She believed this to be a harsh judgement. In her estimation, her grandfather was a treasure hunter, True, her grandfather would straight-away quit his job when he saw a sign of treasure. He would return home, with no treasure and a humble desire to work again. He was a talented silversmith and had little trouble finding work. "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver," he oft quoted from Malachi 3:3. He would hold a piece of silver over the middle of a fire; where the flames were hottest, so as to burn away impurities. He kept his eyes on the silver the whole time it was in the fire. When he could see his image in the silver, he knew it was fully refined. She believed he sometimes saw an image of treasure in the silver. Her grandfather could see what lays beyond and had faith in it. She also loved his suspenders, especially the orange and brown tweedy ones.

She fingered the little black book in her pocket. She felt the silky softness and smoothness of its cover. She withdrew the little black book from her pocket. The book fell open to the third page. Bewildered, she saw the words, "Life is a joke and all things show it," materialize on the page.

Startled by an Eagle's squawk, she looked up, while slipping the book into her pocket. The eagle was soaring above and circling a tree. "You are free, like me," the eagle reminded her. Her eyes focused on the tree. "Is that a pixie dancing around that tree?" she wondered. She blinked her eyes and the pixie was gone. Curiously, the eagle above was still circling that tree. She puzzled at what her grandfather would say to her. "Ah, little one, you can see beyond."

Intrigued by the eagle's focus, she approached the tree. As she drew nearer, she saw a hole in the bark of the tree. "A squirrel's hole," She thought. She reached the tree. She saw that the hole in the bark was larger than she realized. The eagle above continued to encircle the tree. Its caw reminding her, "You are free, like me." She noticed, mostly concealed in the hole, an orange and brown tweedy fabric strip. Mystified, she began tugging on the fabric. Much to her surprise, she pulled out a large pouch. She laughed to herself, "Kind of like pulling a bucket of water from a well."

She rested a while. She fidgeted the little black book and pulled it out of her pocket. Goosebumps erupted when the little black book flew open to the fourth page. "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious," was all it said. The eagle called again, "You are free, like me." Her body quivered. She dropped the pouch. Cascading from the pouch onto the ground about her feet were gold coins. She returned the little black book to her pocket and picked up one of the coins. The coin was an 1882 Liberty Head $10 gold eagle. In fact, all 15 of the coins were 1882 Liberty Head $10 gold eagles. She was refilling the pouch with its cache of gold coins when she realized her grandfather had been born in 1882! She smiled, then laughed, "Grandma?" she laughed again. "To laughter! the coinage of the bank of goodwill." She glimpsed the pixie, this time, waving to her.

She ran down the hill, the pouch swinging at her side. She took the coins to the son of her grandfather's old employer. He will know about these coins.

She shook the pouch in front of him. He spread the coins over his desk and stared in disbelief. He examined them and asked her where she found them. "In a tree," she replied, and added, in my grandfather's tree."

"These 15 Liberty Head $10 gold eagles are worth $20,000," he said.

Epilogue

She enjoyed the money those Liberty Head gold eagles brought. She was generous with her family and friends.

She would still walk the path upwards on the hill. Occasionally she would glimpse a pixie waving at her. The eagle still soars above her reminding her, "You are free, like me."

She laughs in delight, "Mysterious is beautiful. Let it be."